The Name of My Heart
by Simple Enigma
Summary: This is the first bit of fanfiction that I've ever written. I am very proud. This is the story of Eowyn of Rohan, as told by the shieldmaiden herself. Paraphrased of course for your reading convenience.one shot:P


By the time the war ended, I had given up on love, in truth, long before that. Perhaps it was Grima who stole the thought of happiness from me, perhaps the death of my cousin, or my uncles sightless eyes glazed over in the magic I now attribute to Saruman, and then in death. The banishment of my brother seemed to me the end. I was alone, and there was no one who could save me from the silence.

Then he came.

I admit that I did not recognize him as the King when first I saw him, but there was something about his bearing that seemed regal to me, his eyes that I knew had seen more than mine. He had come to deliver me, I did know that.

When my uncle was returned to himself, and my brother forgiven his charge, I knew it was in part this man who had done it. He was kind to me, his words soft and thoughtful, he understood how I felt about the life I had been born to. He understood why I wanted to fight better than any man ever had. And for that he had my love from the beginning.

I did not expect him to reject me, even though I knew about his other, more distant love, I did not know its extent and so I thought that truly he was mine. When he did tell me otherwise, I was crushed. It seemed that the light was sucked out of the world and with it went any chance I could have had of happiness.

My decision to ride to war seemed only natural to me then, what else could I do? Certainly, they could not expect me to linger on, waiting day and night for the word that the war had ended, Sauron had prevailed, my brother and uncle were dead. It would only bea matter of time until I, and all my people would follow. I could not simply wait for that, I had to see it. I wanted to die, so why not the noble death that they would achieve through the battle? What else was there?

Therefore, I went. It was more a suicide attempt than anything was, though I knew I was capable in battle, I did not expect any man, or woman, to survive the siege of Gondor. So I took up my sword and covered my face and shape with armor, and I rode out with my uncles warriors.

There was little thought in mind of happiness or love from that moment. The thoughts of Gondors King drifted away as I had thought they might with want distraction. I could think only of my honorable and glorious death, and of the little one who rode with me. So when we reached Gondor and beheld the siege already underway I was prepared. A courage surged through me as I rode down on those foul orcs, that I had not known before. A panicked adrenaline that made me strong and helped me to bring my sword down again and again long past the time when my arm was too tired to raise. Eventually I was unhorsed, I feared for my little friend that I could no longer protect but more I feared for my uncle who, as I watched, was crushed by his own mount, the beast that had slain it, towering menacingly over the defenseless King.

What could I do but go to his aid? Any soldier with any amount of loyalty would have done the same as I, it was no special feat. Moreover, I was wounded wasn't I? That is how I came here, to the houses, because of a weakness on my part? What is it that I finished the beast? I did not really kill it. That honor is the Hobbits. I shall not call him little anymore, for his heart is far greater than any others.

It was with great anguish that I learned that I had survived at all. When I woke, it was to his face. The Kings. His eyes full of pity for me and his heart the same. That look was a reminder to me that there was no love, and I wished only that I had died. It was his hand that had cast me into darkness, and the healers said, it was his hand that had brought me back. However, I did not see it.

As I healed, the healers allowed me little freedom, little movement for that matter. Nevertheless, it was not long before I had risen, I asked who was in charge of the city and they led me to the steward, who had too been injured. When I met him there were no feelings exchanged but of pity and despair. I did not want to displease the man, who I could see was more in need of healing than I, so I kept my words gentle, my discontent transformed itself into a request. It turned out he could do little for me, he could not set me free of the confining houses that seemed a mere cage for an eagle, and he could not order them to let me ride to war, or to die. In the end, I gave into despair and I fear my calm resolve may have melted in his eyes. _"My window does not look eastward."_ Icomplained, like a child. He had helped me in that as least.

I was slightly more content in the new room he gave me, facing the shadow, looking it in the eye so to speak. I felt safer, when I could see it, than when it was behind. I had always learned not to turn my back onmy enemy.

I met the steward often in the days that followed, we walked the gardens and fellowshipped together, speaking of our families and cultures, he did not tell me himself but I found out some way or another about his father, and how he had tried to burn him. He did not talk of that to me, rather speaking often of his brother, and his father in better days. It made me feel . . . well it made me feel, and that was not something I was accustomed to. On the fifth day since I had first been to see him, we stood together on the wall.

We spoke much of the coming shadow, of the evil that would certainly find us eventually. Then, quite unlooked for he began to speak of joy.

_ "The reason of my waking mind tells me that great evil has befallen and we stand at the end of days. But my heart says nay; and all my limbs are light, and a hope and joy are come to me that I cannot deny. Eowyn, Eowyn, white lady of Rohan, in this hour I do not believe that any darkness can endure!" _

And then he stooped, and kissed my brow. We stood for a very long time together, his arm around my shoulders and the wind in both our hair. It was then that the tidings came to us of the wars ending. The final battle had been won, we were victorious. Our world was not going to end after all, we would live long lives. This was an upset and a wonder to me.

I had long ago decided that I was to die, and not so long ago I had decided it would be here, in the city of Gondor surrounded by people I neither knew nor truly cared about. That is what I had submitted myself to. I was sad that I would not see my uncle for so long, sad that I was not able to end my maddening existence. My only solace was in the steward, how happy he seemed. They released him from the houses, he began his work in the city, and then I did not see him for an endless time.

I was left alone, wandering endlessly the gardens, my brother sent for me but I would not go. I did not want to see the king in his glory for I knew it would only bring me pain, and I did not want to leave the steward, a friendship so newly forged. So I stayed, and my health began to wane in my endless sorrow. I did not care.

But he did.

Once more we stood together out on the wall and at length he asked me why I did not go to my brother. I could not believe he had not guessed my reasons. But he had guessed, as I thought, and now I knew he was aware of how I felt for the king, and I did not envy him the knowledge.

_ I wished to be loved by another, but I desire no mans pity. _

Those were my words to him, and for a moment I did not think he was going to acknowledge them, but he did, and he began to relate to me my heart. The thoughts I had shared with no one, he repeated them to me and the reasons I had for the things that I did and it frustrated me that he had read me like one of his books. I listened as he continued, giving me gentle advice, telling me not to _"scorn the pity that is a gift of a gentle heart"_ telling me that I was beautiful, and strong, and that he felt no pity for me, and then those words!

_ "I love you." _He went on but I heard very little of it, those three words resounded in my mind as though he had shouted them and it seemed that in my heart, there were the sounds of walls crumbling. Had I really loved the king at all? He was so noble, and he could have offered me power, renown, and glory! I found him admirable, for he is a lord among men and who did not find him worth admiration? I was strong, he was the strongest. But did I love him as I had thought? No, I realized, for I had not really known him. I had not taken the time to sit with him and speak of our families, I had not taken the time to stand with him, just the two of us, to tell him my aspirations and fears, and I had not let him see my tears. I did love him for all he had done, but not in the way I had thought.

However, did I love the steward? Almost immediately, I knew it to be true. I had justified not going to Cair Andros with the thought of seeing the king, but it had been the steward that had truly held me back, who had occupied my thoughts and dreams.

Suddenly realization dawned on me and I finally knew the true name of my heart.

Faramir.


End file.
